


chasing a dream (only fools like me would follow)

by hawksonfire



Series: Star Spangled Bingo 2019 [11]
Category: Marvel
Genre: Boys Kissing, Bucky Barnes Bingo 2019, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Bucky Barnes's Metal Arm, Clint Barton Feels, Clint Barton has Freckles, Clint Barton's Biceps, Clothes Sharing, Deaf Clint Barton, Didn't Know They Were Dating, M/M, POV Bucky Barnes, Sassy Jarvis, Sleepy Cuddles, Star Spangled Bingo, Surprise Kissing, Thirsty Bucky Barnes, and they love each other, but i love them anyway, everyone in the Tower knew but they didn't, my boys are dumb, no i will not be taking questions, so its all fine, thank u next
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-08
Updated: 2019-09-08
Packaged: 2020-10-12 21:42:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,884
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20571359
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/hawksonfire/pseuds/hawksonfire
Summary: First it's a sweater, then it's a shirt, and finally it's a bed. Turns out sharingiscaring.





	chasing a dream (only fools like me would follow)

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Star Spangled Bingo Square N5 - Clothes Sharing.  
Also written for Bucky Barnes Bingo B1 - Didn't Know They Were Dating.

**Bucky**

The first time it happens, it’s honestly an accident. He’s doing laundry and it’s really freaking cold in the laundry room for some reason, so he just grabs the first thing he sees that looks warm. It’s a black sweater with a purple arrow in the center of the chest, and it’s the softest thing Bucky’s ever felt. So he keeps it. When he’s put all his laundry away, he heads to the kitchen to grab a snack but when he walks in, the whole room goes silent. 

“Nice sweater, Murder Pop,” Stark says, smirking. Bucky grunts at him. Best way to piss Stark off is to not engage.

“Buck,” Steve says carefully, “I’ve never seen you wear that before.”

“Don’t know why you would’ve, ‘s’not mine.” Bucky grabs a bag of popcorn out of the cupboard and sticks it into the microwave. 

“Don’t you have your own sweaters?” Steve asks - he’s getting that little furrow between his eyes that means Bucky’s missing something important again. 

Stifling a sigh, he closes the microwave door, sets the timer, and turns around, ready to say - well, ready to say something, anyway. But before he can, Barton stumbles into the kitchen, bleary-eyed, and heads straight for the coffee machine. “How come you’re wearing my sweater?” He asks, and it takes Bucky a second to realize Barton’s talking to him.

Bucky shrugs. “Cold.”

“Kay,” Barton says, and he shuffles back out of the kitchen, holding a steaming mug of coffee in one hand. 

“Aren’t you gonna return it?” Steve asks when Bucky makes no move to follow the archer. 

“Nah, ‘s warm.” Steve exchanges a not-so-subtle look with Stark and opens his mouth to say something. Bucky prepares himself for a lecture on some stupid future concept of boundaries and whatever, already rolling his eyes, and then the Avengers alarm goes off. “Be safe, don’t die, kick some ass,” Bucky drones, and Stark blows him a kiss as they rush out the door. 

“Have dinner ready when we get back, snookums!” Bucky stifles a snort - he has to, he’d never hear the end of it if Stark discovered he actually made him laugh - and watches the Iron Man suit fly off from the kitchen window.

Maybe he should actually make dinner. It’d be pretty funny seeing Stark’s face when he sees a bunch of food laid out for the team, especially if Bucky plays up the whole ‘I owe you for letting me stay here’ thing. Steve would hate it, but Stark would laugh once he got past the spluttering.

~~

It’s not like Bucky’s possessive. He hasn’t had much to be possessive over for the last few decades, and he doesn’t remember much before that. He still doesn’t have a lot that he can call his own _ now_, no matter how much Steve tries to push him into shopping. 

But the things he does call his own? Those, he would rather chop off a hand than lend to anyone else. Well, his _ other _ hand, anyway. Those things, though, they’re not clothes. A picture of his family from before the war, his Ma’s old family menorah, his Pa’s weathered old pocket watch... Stuff like that. So when he sees Barton wearing a red shirt - that is unfairly tight over his biceps, for the record - and he recognizes it as his own, the surge of possessiveness that shoots through him nearly knocks him over. 

Possessiveness over _ Barton_. Which, what the fuck? Sure, the guy’s attractive and all, what with those biceps and the hair and the little half grin he’s got whenever he’s trying to get himself out of trouble - shit. 

“Any reason you’re wearing my shirt, sweetheart?” Double shit. Apparently, his mouth has a mind of its own now.

“You wore my sweater last week, seems only fair,” Barton shoots back, grinning. 

“Seems a tad small, don’t you think?” Natalia says, smirking at the two of them like she knows something they don’t. Which, while irritating as hell, is usually true.

Barton flexes his ridiculous arms and a button pops off the front of the shirt. The three of them watch the button _ ping _ off the opposite wall and it comes rolling to a stop at Bucky’s feet. Barton grins sheepishly - _ that damn half-smile is gonna be the death of me_, Bucky thinks. “Sorry.”

Bucky shrugs, keeping his drool to himself. “No worries, looks better on you anyhow.” He adds a wink to the end of that sentence and is rewarded with a faint blush rising to Barton’s cheeks. It brings his freckles into sharp relief and Bucky has to practically tear his gaze away, lest Natalia read his feelings on his face.

Fucking _ freckles_.

~~

“You okay?” Clint’s shaking like a leaf, all curled into a ball in the corner of the couch. He doesn’t react to Bucky’s question, and he knows better than to touch someone while they’re like this. So Bucky just sits down next to the man on the couch, presses his thigh against Clint’s knee, and talks. He talks about his day, his family - what he remembers of them anyhow - the shenanigans that Steve’s gotten up to recently. 

Something twitches out of the corner of his eye but before he can see what it is, there’s a hand pressed to his sternum and watery blue eyes looking up at him from between Clint’s fingers. “Don’t have my aids in,” Clint says clumsily, “Keep talking.”

“Sure,” Bucky agrees. Who is he to judge another man’s coping mechanisms? Hell, his own involve sitting in his closet for hours on end with a gun pointed at the door, so he’s really in no place to judge. Not that he would anyway, but his point stands. 

“So, my sister Becca. A little hellion, lemme tell you. Made my Ma get white hairs at thirty-five with the shit she pulled.” He talks for nearly an hour, and it's only when his voice goes hoarse and he has to stop to clear his throat that he realizes Clint fell asleep. With a soft smile, Bucky smooths the hair away from his forehead and stands up, making sure not to disturb Clint. 

Clint gives a little shiver, and without even thinking of it, Bucky pulls off his sweater and tucks it around Clint’s tall frame. The archer smiles in his sleep and pulls it close, and Bucky has to take a deep breath to stave off the rush of warm feelings he gets at the sight. With one final glance back at the human lump tucked under his sweater, Bucky leaves, heading down to the gym to hopefully beat these feelings out of him.

~~

Things change after that. It’s not _ bad _ change, just... change. Clint - and when did he become Clint and not Barton? - starts hanging around Bucky more, whether it’s to play video games or watch a movie or sit in silence while one of them comes down from a panic attack. 

They fall asleep together once, during a Team Movie Night. One second, Bucky’s sitting next to Clint on the couch and they’re watching a movie. Next thing he knows, he’s waking up slumped over with a lapful of softly snoring Clint. 

“You should tell him,” Natalia says quietly. 

Bucky gathers Clint into his arms and grunts. “Nothing to tell.” Clint wraps his arms around Bucky’s throat sleepily, nuzzling the back of his neck, and Bucky nearly trips over his own two feet at the feeling of Clint’s lips on the back of his neck. 

“Are you sure about that?” Natalia hums, watching them go. Bucky leaves without saying another word and takes Clint back to his room, laying him down on the bed. 

“Don’t go,” he hears from behind him as he turns to leave. 

“I don’t think you mean that,” Bucky says.

“I mean what I meant,” Clint says, then screws up his face. “You know what I mean. And I meant it.”

Bucky shakes his head, holding back laughter, and climbs into bed beside Clint. “Just this once,” he warns, settling in.

“You won’t mean that when you see how awesome of a cuddler I am,” Clint mumbles, pressing his face into Bucky’s chest. “I’m the bestest at it.” Bucky smiles down at him and puts his other hand behind his head. 

“I’m sure you are,” he says softly, and he’s answered by a soft snore. “Goodnight, Clint.” He’s not expecting to fall asleep, which is why he’s so surprised when he wakes up in the morning to an armful of sleepy blond. 

Clint’s tense in his grip, and Bucky’s too tired to figure out why, so he just gives a little squeeze and mumbles, “Go back to sleep, sweetheart.” Clint tenses further in his arms, then relaxes all of a sudden, pushing his way further into Bucky’s grip. They drift off to sleep wrapped up in each other, and when Steve comes barging in a couple hours later, he’s met with an amused Bucky watching a frantic Clint rush around the room grabbing various items of clothing. 

“I’m gonna be late!” Clint cries. 

“You’re already late,” Bucky points out, making no move to help Clint get ready. 

“I’m gonna be late-_ er _!” Clint says, shooting Bucky a fond look. 

“Should I come back?” Steve asks, a look on his face that Bucky can’t decipher.

“Nope, we’re all good here!” Clint says, grinning. He drops a kiss on Bucky’s mouth and rushes out, tossing a “Bye, babe!” as he goes. 

Bucky stares at the empty doorway. His hand drifts to his lips, a shellshocked look on his face. 

“I’m glad you two are happy,” Steve says, smiling at Bucky. “I’ll bring him back safe and sound, promise.” Steve disappears and seconds later, Clint comes racing back into the room. 

“I didn’t mean that,” he says desperately. “I’m sorry, I’m so - what are you doing?”

Bucky cups Clint’s face in his hands. “Giving you a proper goodbye kiss so you know what’s waiting for you when you come back so we can talk about this.” 

“Okay,” Clint says, dazed. Bucky pulls him close and kisses him, tongue darting out to trace a line along Clint’s bottom lip. “I’m definitely coming back for more of that,” Clint says, slamming into the doorframe as he backs out of the room. 

“You better,” Bucky says, amused, as he settles back into Clint’s bed to wait for him. “I’ll be here.”

~~

Steve pokes his head into the common room. “Who had today in the pot?”

“You did, Captain Rogers,” JARVIS says.

“Aw, c’mon, I call foul!” Tony pouts, “Insider information!”

“I can assure you, Sir, Captain Rogers had no inside information as to when Mr. Barton and Sergeant Barnes would realize that they’ve been dating for two months now. It appears he just knows them better than you.”

Tony’s jaw drops open. “Sass! From my own creation! The fruit of my loins! JARVIS! I’m devastated. How could you?”

“I take after my creator,” JARVIS says drily. “And in the future, Sir, if you could refrain from referring to your loins around me, I would be eternally grateful.”

Tony’s squawks of betrayal follow Steve out of the Tower, making him laugh. “What was that about?” Clint asks when Steve arrives. 

“Nothing, Clint,” Steve says, clapping him on the shoulder, “Nothing at all.”

**Author's Note:**

> follow me on the [ tumbles](https://candycanedarcy.tumblr.com/)
> 
> follow me on the [ tweets](https://twitter.com/candycanedarcy)


End file.
